Their Captives Minds by courteous Arts, The Ladies Conquefts are defign'd, Then what have they to do with Frowns? But fight till Death to Freedom fave, And scorn to be a Tyrant's Slave. Thus oft become, thro' Fear-— to yield, Victorious Mafters o' the Field. Ten Thousand pretty am'rous Flys ' Dance in the Sun-fhine of your Eyes, But when Clouds gather, in a Swarm Difcreetly fly th' approaching Storm. Strait from your Lips fome Honey fetch 'em, An acid Bait will never catch 'em. Those deep dark Frowns will ever prove The very Graves of Infant Love. M & 'Faith 'Faith, Celia, thofe will never win us, And court the Hand that us'd the Whip. Befides Not all your Whalebone-Armour (Shou'd Venus bid her little Charmer Let fly against your squeamish Heart) May chance to meet the fame Return. We're apt to fay; What tho' her Face And Cheeks be very Spanish Wool; She's Fair 'tis true, but then she knows it, Grant Grant in your Face all VENUS' Charms, Each Brow a Bow, Darts in each Eye, While thofe ftand bent, thefe cannot fly. To Two Gentlemen, reputed Authors of Timely Advice, &c. K NOW, bufy Fools, that dare advife A Lady, how to use her Eyes, Ye merit for the grand Offence, To die by th' Fire, that comes from thence. 7 D'ye know what Woman is? And dare Thus haughtily to treat the Fair? We execute, we first intend. Woman Woman then by Heaven intended First, its Operations ended. Then is it Reason to fuppofe Heav'n wou'd its prior Labours clofe In ought inferior to those ? No! tir'd with Labour, foil'd its Art, Exactly wrought in ev'ry Part, Heav'n faw its Works, thought Woman beft, And wifely judg'd it Time to reft, Man with the Brutes was form'd of Earth, From Man himself came Woman's Birth, Her therefore we may juftly deem The fhining Summer-Clouds difclofe And then reflect 'em on our Sight. Shall Woman, who cou'd make Jove come Down from his Celestial Dome, Wo Woman, who had the Pow'r to make To court a Mortal to its Arms? And Woman is, you must agree, All of Heav'n, on Earth we see. Liberal Nature in her Face Did all thofe matchlefs Glories place, And magick Power in her Eyes As much fuperior fupplies, Of that rude Strength of Mens rough Natures, Which ill adorns their fofter Features: And fhan't the ufe her Native Arms, On Purpose giv'n to guard her Charms? In blushing Flashes from her Eyes, |